Yes, weird how all of those wacky weirdos tend to congregate in the State of the Mentally Ill.
Fortunately for me I am not even slightly related to those lousy cooks.
Tuesday, April 24, 2018
Yes, it would seem odd that these extremely rich and powerful persons would so much interest themselves in the hastening of my departure and/or termination from this mortal life. Well, if it were my time to go, fine. But on the other hand, I can truly say this much minimally in conjunction with Mark Twain, that reports of my death are as yet somewhat premature and/or exaggerated. Strange that such civilized creatures as yourselves would be planning to starve me to death by cutting off all income, all food supply, in the manner of jungle savages, thus to precipitate and facilitate the sundering apart of my bonds to this earthly existence. And yet I am so far still here on the planet in bodily form, yet capable of prosecuting the course set before me to the best of my abilities, so help me God.
Yes, what an unusual to remind me of my great-great-grandmother Amanda Moore died in 1882 in Texas. She was the wife of my great-great-grandfather, Mr. McClellan. I refer all questions about her to the family history book. I have nothing more about that.
There is nothing that I would need to discuss with the pathetically weird Lewis Carroll buttheads. Yes, whatever did happen to Alice the receptionist? I wasn't paying attention to Alice in Wonderland. As a child I read the books, including threw the looking glass, but even so the Alice story makes no sense to me. It is nonsense. I really don't care about that. My head cannot fit into that meaningless schematic. It is not a bible for blonds, only a children's storybook of little consequence. I like to see the movie but even so I am not sure what it mean if anything.
I would like you filthy pigs of New York to pay me in compensation for all of your slanderous lies against poor clueless little me, but of course that is a legal matter that requires a judge to force you to face the wickedness of your own filthy gutter-brained mind, which is something that I do not have the authority to do. So we all have to sit here and wait for the idiots of New York to get over themselves.
Monday, April 23, 2018
How many times do I have to tell you the very same story about how after I got home from the hiking trip my mother told me that John had called on the telephone to tell her that I had said a bad word. I remembered what I said about the scenery but apparently that word meant something else to them. Oh, I didn't know that.